Okay, so my children aren't really the enemy. It just feels that way sometimes. So who is the real enemy? Well, that would have to be me. I am convinced that I argue with myself more than with any other person on the planet, though my husband might dispute this fact. Whether trying to decide how much, if any dessert I will eat or whether or not to work out and what kind of workout I will do, I am always at war with my body. Worry, guilt, fear. These are the mainstays of my life. How I counteract these powerful feelings determines not only my quality of life, but who I am on the inside.
I am reminded of a movie I saw a long time ago. It is called, Leaving Las Vegas. Nicholas Cage's character is an alcoholic. He has lost his family and is tired of fighting against his illness. He decides to move to Las Vegas and let the alcohol win. He befriends a prostitute and a strange friendship begins. The movie ends when he dies. It's been many years since I watched it but it stuck with me. His selfishness stuck with me. And yet, I understand why he made that choice. I don't think it was a right choice, but I do understand it. We all have the capacity to self-destruct. Self-destruction is choice.
On days like today I question why I persist in this healthy lifestyle routine. After all, it is more of a routine than anything at this point. I'm in the habit of exercising and making healthy food choices. But most people don't understand the war that rages in my heart every time I am faced with food of any kind. I am fully aware at any given moment that I could go to Taco Bell, order up my favorite meal and chase it with chocolate. No one is going to stop me. And if I don't care, and since it is my body, why shouldn't I?
Today I am going to remind myself why I am fighting this battle. Keep reading. This might apply to you too.
1) My life matters. Not only to my husband and children, but to those lives I interact with on a daily basis. As if this weren't important enough, my life matters to me. Would I want to live with myself if I gave up? Would I respect me? Wouldn't I be wasting this entire journey of getting to know myself, and learning how my body works? Wasn't I so happy when I discovered losing weight was not impossible?
2) My choices matter. If I stopped exercising and eating right, I would personally experience a decline in health. I am quite certain I would start to get sick on a regular basis again. But say I could live with that. After all, Burrito Supremes are mighty tasty. And say I could live with gaining all the weight back. If I was content with that, why should it matter? It's my body. It's my life. My decision to eat is just that, my decision. But the simple truth is, my choices impact the lives of those around me. When people like Melissa McCarthy make being fat funny, they perpetuate the lie that being fat is fun. I know better. So if I choose to jump off the healthy bandwagon, I am, by that very decision, telling people it's okay to hurt their bodies with food. It may be my body, but my choices definitely affect the lives of those around me.
3) I want to be in control of my body, not the other way around. This may sound simplistic, but before I got healthy I used to get what I call "the sugar shakes." I had to have candy with me at all times. I had stashes everywhere. If I ran out I would get sick and shaky. As a result of eating candy all the time, I rarely experienced true hunger. This made eating not as much fun. Which sent me in pursuit of more savory foods, which made me fatter. I was always seeking a way to make eating an even more over the top experience. I was a slave to my desire for more and "better" food. At the expense of everything else. I am at my ugliest when I am serving my desire for food. Food was more important than my husband, my children, my job, and most importantly, my relationship with God.
For me, self-discipline enables me to live the way I truly want to live. Do I hate fighting with myself? Yes. But self-indulgence followed to its logical end is loathsome. I can say this because I've experienced it. Much the same way Nicholas Cage's character in Leaving Las Vegas left a bad taste in my mouth, so does going back to the way I used to live.
I sometimes wonder what this struggle will look like when I'm 50 or 60 years old. Will it be as hard? Will I still be sensitive to people who struggle to stay healthy? Will I have reverted to "pre-healthy" Margaret? I have a very definitive struggle with emotional eating. I get sad, tired or stressed and I run towards food. But I am not unique. And I am not alone. Some days, like today, I don't want to fight anymore. It's old now.
But it's worth it. After all, I am still fighting. And that's all that really matters.
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